


Five Times Crowley Had a Nightmare and the One Time Aziraphale is There to Wake Him

by brokencasbutt67



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Has Nightmares (Good Omens), Fallen Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Light Angst, M/M, Nazis, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24338578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokencasbutt67/pseuds/brokencasbutt67
Summary: For as long as there has been sleep, there have been dreams, both good and bad. Some civilisations saw them as prophecies and omens to determine life choices and the future, other civilisations would use them for factual basis.Crowley was one of only a few celestial beings who chose to sleep. Though, his current self is always chastising his prior self for choosing to go to sleep when they did. Because now, Crowley’s sleep is always plagued with nightmares.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42





	1. His Fall

For as long as there has been sleep, there have been dreams, both good and bad. Some civilisations saw them as prophecies and omens to determine life choices and the future, other civilisations would use them for factual basis. 

Crowley was one of only a few celestial beings who chose to sleep. Though, his current self is always chastising his prior self for choosing to go to sleep when they did. Because now, Crowley’s sleep is always plagued with nightmares, though it rarely happens. Instead, he occasionally has dreams of happier times when he was in Heaven with Aziraphale. The majority of the time though, he doesn’t sleep. He stares at his ceiling, hoping and praying to a God with no face.

Crowley first experienced a nightmare after he was cast out of heaven. He makes out as though it’s nothing, that he “sauntered vaguely downwards”, but in the dark of night, he admits to himself that it truly hurt him more than he could ever verbalise. To lose his home of so long was what hurt the most, he was discarded like a cigarette butt. He doesn’t let himself think of the pain often, when he thinks about it for too long he ends up wallowing in his depression for too long. 

The nightmare comes often, in the middle of the darkest nights. The dark nights run long, though they feel longer when he doesn’t have anyone by his side to off load to about the nightmares, to cuddle with or even just to talk to about any topic that would clear his head for a few more minutes. 

_ The scent of burning flesh fills his nostrils, the rage emanating from God like a tsunami instills a deep seated fear in him, like a child being chastised by their parents. The pain of his pure white wings blackening under the wrath of God fills him with an unexplainable agony. He can feel the judging stares of the other angels watching him fall, his punishment is used to show the angels of God’s true capabilities, that she isn’t scared to cast her child from Heaven for something as minor as asking questions in the wrong places.  _

_ The body falls from Heaven in front of all of the angels, and Crowley, though going by the name Crawley, can see the ground of Earth closing in on him. He wants to stop himself, to put his arms out to protect himself from the damage he’ll get from hitting Earth. He’s heard the tales of other angels falling from grace and being cast from Heaven. He never thought he would be here though, falling from Heaven.  _

_ He doesn’t even know the question he asked to end up here, it could have been any one of the questions he’s asked. There have been so many throughout the years - about humans, about animals, about the plans for the future. But here he is, falling towards the Earth he holds so dearly. There are trees coming into his vision, the forests that he once crafted. He doesn’t hit the ground.  _

_ The ground hits him and falls away like sand, he continues to fall further down. He passes through the layers of Earth, passing through within seconds. His skin burns, aches and stings from the flames lapping at him. Hell is still a way away yet though. He doesn’t stop falling, like a stone in a lake.  _

_ Hell is dingy and dark, just as he’d expected it to be, though it’s still a surprise that God created something so bad, that she has allowed her children to fall into some place like this.  _

_ He wakes up and looks around, there’s a few beings staring at him expectantly, he briefly recognises one or two from their time in Heaven, but the majority of them are strangers to him. His head falls forward again, the agony in his body lingers like the scent of smoke that fills the ruined remains of his wings.  _

_ He looks around as he rests on his sore knees for a few moments, before standing up. All eyes are on him.  _ _  
_ _ “Welcome to Hell” A voice says, and Crowley searches for the source of the voice.  _

He sits bolt upright, his chest is sticky and sweaty. His chest heaves for unnecessary air to fill his lungs, it calms him in some weird way that he just can’t place. He swings around to rest his feet against the cool floor of his apartment. He sits forward, the light from the moon shows the cracks in Crowley’s semblance of mental stability. He doesn’t think about it for too long, the more he thinks about it, the harder it hits. 

Crowley stands up after a few moments of pondering and makes his way through to the kitchen, as he does every other night that he has a nightmare. It’s dark, it’s somewhere near 4am and the moon is the only thing lighting the apartment. The city is silent; everyone is asleep like they should be. Crowley is the only one awake. He doesn’t turn the light on as he looks for another bottle of wine, he searches in the darkness. Crowley likes it that way, he doesn’t have to look at himself in the darkness, he doesn’t see the failure that he has become since his fall.

The wine doesn’t clear his mind, but it calms him for long enough to go back to bed. Sleep doesn’t find him, it never does. Instead, he stares at the ceiling, shifting in an attempt to get comfortable in the cold, empty bed. He never gets comfortable though, it never happens. He can think of tomorrow, what he has planned and what he’s going to do, but that doesn’t clear his mind of the images for long. 

When he meets Aziraphale the next day, in the Ritz at their usual table, there isn’t enough wine in the entirety of the Universe to rid his brain of the images of his fall. 


	2. The Great Flood

Crowley’s images of his fall is just one of a handful of different nightmares that fill his restless sleep.

The fall filled his nightmares for many, many years; there was nothing else to fill them with for the majority of the time; not until The Great Flood occurred. 

It’s a part of history that Crowley hates, whenever he looks back to the Old Kingdom, he can’t help but hurt. He remembers his relationship with God, how quickly it became severed, and her punishment to humanity in order to hurt himself. He’s never understood the cause of the punishment for himself through humanities hurt, though he’s not sure he wants to. To kill the innocent masses, like she did, it’s unforgivable in Crowley’s mind. 

Before Crowley can get too immersed thinking of The Great Flood, he grabs a bottle of wine from the chiller as he so frequently does. _Shouldn’t drink to repress the past_ the voice in his head says, but Crowley doesn’t listen to it, he never does when he feels like this. He takes a swig from the bottle, tossing the glass aside. It remains unshattered, a demonic miracle. He doesn’t care much for cleaning at the moment. 

He flops onto his bed, drinking more from the bottle as he gets lost further in his own warring thoughts about God and the past. Sleep doesn’t find Crowley, it rarely finds him in all honesty. He doesn’t know why he bothers trying anymore. He hasn’t had a peaceful night of sleep since he had the first night so many centuries ago. He forever regrets that night, he curses his former self’s actions. 

* * *

_It wasn’t the actual murders that hurt Crowley the most, he’s seen plenty of murders already._

_It wasn’t the screams and the cries from the innocent victims as the flood waters rose either._

_I_ _t wasn’t that he was forced to watch on as the masses were slaughtered._

_It was the bodies that hurt Crowley._

_Standing on the Ark, he can see corpses floating for miles around. Occasionally, one would bump into the Ark and he’d see the lifeless pain in their eyes. They were children, the majority of the corpses that littered the earth are children’s - orphans mostly. He wanted to scoop them all up, bring them onto the ark and will them back to life. He can’t though, if he does that, this will just occur again in a few years time._

_She’s relentless. She never stops hurting humanity, hurting Crowley in the process. That’s the real reason she does this, not to ‘cleanse humanity’ as claimed, but to hurt Crowley for his love of humanity that corrupted him so. There was the plagues, the curses and now the flood. He’s not sure how much more hurt he can take, nevermind how much humanity could take._

_Crowley has never understood where Aziraphale’s unwavering loyalty to God comes from, he’s seen the punishments and the torture she inflicts on Earth from the same perspective as Crowley, yet somehow, Aziraphale can’t see any wrong in her actions._

_As with all of the nightmares of the flood, Crowley is standing at the front of the boat, his black cloak flapping in the wind behind him._

_He isn’t sure why he keeps coming here every day. The view never changes; only the sea for miles around._

_There’s a slight thud, Crowley thinks nothing of it at first, it could be just a log or something floating in the water. But then it’s happening again and again. Before long, he’s looking over the edge of the boat. He’s met with pleading brown eyes looking up at him. He wants to reach down, to pluck her from the water and cherish her like his own. Before he can though, there’s a dark mass below her, and then she’s gone. Blood stains the water, and he looks away, wanting nothing more than to go back in time._

_But he can’t. He can’t ever bring back the masses that were lost. He knows what will happen if he does - the cycle will repeat over and over. He’s tried it once, he tried to rescue one child from the wrath of God but she was unrelenting in her punishment that in the end, Crowley had to let the kid go out of fear of hurting humanity more and more._

_Aziraphale joins him, after a while of him standing on the top of the boat. The angel doesn’t ask why Crowley is stony faced, he doesn’t ask where the Ark is heading. He doesn’t need to ask. He can see from Crowley’s expression that it’s the same cycle that they’ve lived through so many times that it’s unfair to them._

_God doesn’t see it that way. She doesn’t see fairness and equality, she doesn’t see it from the perspective of her eyes on Earth. She sees it as a ‘numbers game’ - how many people are blindly following her word to the letter. If the number slips, for even a moment, she’s pouncing and there’s another plague, or a flood, or any other mass slaughter that she can get away with._

* * *

Crowley jolts bolt upright. Sweat covers his chest. He looks around the dark room. The wine bottle beside him is empty, staining the bedding. He brushes his sweat slick hair back, sighing slightly. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, he doesn’t want to fall asleep again. 

She makes him relive each and every trauma every single night and Crowley isn’t sure how much longer he can go on like this. He’s running on absolutely no sleep whatsoever, he’s a liability to himself and the people around him.

But what can he do? God has a power trip and she’s taunting him every single day and every single night, over and over. He can’t even say that it will carry on until the day he dies, he’s unlikely to die, no matter how much he tries. He’ll only end up back in Hell to relive everything again. 


	3. In The Church

As the smoke raised and the ashes sank to the floor, Crowley knew that the images before him would be cemented in his mind for many years to come. He knew that the mangled corpses would plague his sleep. As much as they were Nazis and they were committing atrocious murders that would linger in the memory of society for decades to come;, and they wanted to kill both Aziraphale and himself, he still hated that two humans would fall under his own actions. 

Crowley knows that throughout the ages, countless humans have fallen under the hands of his fellow demons, and probably under the actions of some angels too. But for some reason, it hurts Crowley to know that  _ he  _ has killed people himself. 

As he looks over the smouldering remains of the church, he’s not sure if he’s hiding the hurt on his face, though he’s not entirely sure that he cares. Aziraphale has seen Crowley hurting more than enough, the angel has seen the hurt that fills Crowley’s every living hour enough that he could pinpoint the exact things that fill Crowley’s mind.

“That was very kind of you, Crowley” Aziraphale says, his eyes briefly meeting Crowley’s through the black shades.    
“Shut up” Crowley jibes, there’s no malice behind it. There never is. Crowley could never hurt the angel, it would kill him to know that he has. He watches Aziraphale’s eyes widen as he looks for the books. Crowley sighs, tugging the bag of books from a well-placed hand. He holds it out for the angel, a small smile can barely be seen from the demon. 

“Oh! Thank you, dear” Aziraphale’s smile could almost clear the images of pained faces from Crowley’s mind.  _ It won’t though.  _ Crowley isn’t looking forward to returning to his flat, he knows that he won’t be getting much sleep tonight.  _ He rarely gets enough sleep, less so when the nightmares return.  _

Aziraphale climbs into the passenger side of the Bentley, watching as Crowley climbs in a moment later. 

It takes Crowley a few moments to prompt himself enough to begin the journey back home. Well, first he has to take Aziraphale back to the book shop.

It's a tense journey. Aziraphale has so many things that he wants to say, he has so many things he wants to ask Crowley and things that he wants to do. It's been so long since they've seen each other, it was way back in the Holy Water incident the last time they'd spoken. And Aziraphale has so many questions. He wants to know where Crowley was? Was the request for holy water forgotten?

Aziraphale wants to know  _ why _ Crowley wants the holy water, what's the demon's purpose beyond  _ insurance _ .

But Aziraphale doesn't voice any of his questions, or his concerns. He doesn't voice any of his concerns. He says nothing, instead bringing his attention to the bag of books in his lap.

The bookshop doesn't come soon enough. Aziraphale is quickly exiting the car, though when Crowley calls back to him, he feels a bloom of love in his chest that he hasn't felt for a long time. And it scares him.

Crowley climbs back into the Bentley and begins the long journey back to his empty flat alone. He doesn't want to go back inside, he doesn't want to face the empty apartment alone for another night. But he does. He walks in, falling face first onto his bed. It takes him far too long to undress and change into sleepwear, though it usually takes an unnecessary amount of time for a demon anyway.

_ The pained faces of the Nazis fills Crowley's mind. He can see the pain that they felt, he can hear their cries just as he had done a few hours prior. _

_ "You killed us Crowley... You did this to us" there's a voice, somewhere. He's not sure whose voice it is. But it fills his ears. It swirls around him like smoke, it's some sick joke played on him by his own mind, over and over. _

_ And it doesn't stop. He wants to run, to hide from his past in the hopes that it'll pass him by and he'll be okay again. _

_ The pain twisted faces of the nazis comes back to the forefront of his mind. _

Crowley jolts awake, blinking rapidly in the hopes that it will do enough to make his eyes work again. He lets out a shaky breath, he brushes his hair back and falls flat on his back onto the bed.

"Kill me, God" He mumbles.

"Kill me, hurt me... anything, just please stop these damn nightmares. I’ll do anything to just get rid of them" He doesn't stop the tear from racing down his cheek, and he's not entirely sure he wants to either.  _ It’s been so long since he got a full, uninterrupted night of sleep and he knows just how the humans feel, how awful it feels to be running on an empty tank. _

Eventually, he sits up from the bed and goes to the kitchen. It's dark in his flat, but his eyes are long trained to see in the darkest of times. He makes his way to the wine cupboard, pulling out a bottle of whatever - he doesn't care too much to check what specific wine it is, he just needs to stop thinking for a while.

He sits on the kitchen counter, it's cool on his thighs as he takes a long swig from the wine bottle. It calms the images that are flickering through his mind, briefly. But they don't go, they’ll never truly leave his mind. 

He can still see their faces, twisted and contorted. He can hear their screams, he can hear the screams and the cries. Even though there were no other victims than the Nazis, it still kills Crowley that there  _ could _ have been more victims and he doesn't know if there was anyone who got hurt because of his and Aziraphale’s selfishness.

  
  



	4. Bookshop Fire

As Crowley’s knees hit the rain-soaked pavement in front of him, he stares up to the burning shell of Aziraphale’s precious bookshop. He wants to run inside, to find Aziraphale and make sure he’s safe. But Crowley can’t - the flames are too strong. Crowley watches on, his heart shattering as he feels more useless than he ever has. 

The images of the flames leaping from the windows are imprinted in his mind, he won’t forget these images for a long time, if ever. His brain  _ oh so helpfully  _ likes to remind him that Aziraphale is  _ probably _ in there, scared and alone; that Crowley could run in and save him,  _ but he won’t.  _

Crowley doesn’t know what’s stopping him, it’s like there’s some invisible force field repelling him, keeping away from the door. He wants to move forward, he wants to run in and find the angel, he wants to protect him from the world that burns around them. 

He wants to take the angel off to Alpha Centauri, to a world where their love isn’t forbidden, a world where they aren’t held apart; star crossed lovers.  _ Romeo and Juliet,  _ there’s a slight chuckle as Crowley thinks about the relationship that he has with the angel, and how it’s never going to be anything more than  _ hereditary enemies  _ and  _ business partners. _

He’s dragged away, in the end, possibly a firefighter. Crowley can vaguely hear them talking to him, something about  _ his own safety,  _ but it doesn’t matter. Without Aziraphale there, Crowley has nothing to live for.

His feet are moving, but Crowley isn’t moving, he’s being carried away from the bookshop, and away from  _ his  _ angel. He tries to fight it, but he’s unable to run back to Aziraphale. 

* * *

He’s in a pub. He knows that much. He’s got wine bottles surrounding him, mostly empty though some bottles still have a few drops lingering at the base. His heart physically aches, it’s been a long time since he’s hurt this much. He closes his eyes and he sees Aziraphale, crying out for Crowley, surrounded by flames. Crowley curses himself for not going forward and finding his angel.

Someone across the bar is talking about the fire, Crowley can hear every single word of what is being said. He knows it all though, he was there. It hurts him to hear the stranger talking about the remains of the bookshop:  _ no bodies found. _

Crowley perks up at the latter.  _ There’s still a chance Aziraphale is alive.  _ Crowley tries to listen into the conversation further, though he doesn’t hear too much. Before he can do anything though,  _ something  _ is appearing in front of him. He pulls his glasses down slightly, exposing his true self to the world for a brief moment.

“I don’t believe this” He murmurs. He lifts his sunglasses, though it doesn’t help much.

“Aziraphale?” He breathes.

“I’m trying to get drunk” Crowley murmurs.

“Failing” He adds, musing to himself. After a few moments, he lifts his sunglasses again and pinches his arm this time, hoping he’ll realise he’s dreaming.

“But you know me. Indefatigable, heh… Are you here?” Crowley asks, taking in the form before him, entirely unsure of whether he believes his own eyes.

“Good question. Not certain” Aziraphale says, the apparition appears to pat itself before continuing.

“Never done this before, can you hear me?” Aziraphale asks. Crowley nods.

“Of course, I can hear you,” He says.  _ I always hear you. _

“I’m afraid I rather made a mess of things…” Aziraphale admits.

“Did you go to Alpha Centauri?” He asks, entirely curious of whether the demon truly left him.

“No, I changed my mind… stuff happened. I lost my lo- my best friend” He says, quickly correcting the sentence from  _ love  _ to  _ best friend. _

“I’m so sorry to hear that…” Aziraphale trails off, pondering whether he truly heard the demon correctly.  _ Did Crowley nearly say he lost his love?  _

A pang of jealousy flares through Aziraphale as he imagines who the demon called his love. He wishes it’s himself, that the demon would love Crowley would love the angel.  _ He doesn’t though. _

The conversation continues to flow, including the sharing of the news that the angel’s bookshop is now a burned-out shell of what it once was. Crowley looks down when he tells the angel, a shared heartbreak. Crowley wants to find Aziraphale, to wrap him up in his arms and hold him close until Armageddon has gone. He doesn’t though, and eventually, Aziraphale fades from view, leaving him alone again.

* * *

Crowley makes his way up to his flat, the images from the bookshop fire still ingrained into his mind. He closes the door and leans against it. A sharp, silent sigh leaves his throat. He drags himself towards the bed.

_ Flames engulf him as he runs towards the building. He never thought he’d be here, in this situation. But here he is: running into the burning bookshop to find Aziraphale. The angel hasn’t been heard from for days, and now the bookshop is up in flames and Crowley is cursing himself for not checking in with the angel sooner. _

_ He checks the rooms that he knows of and finds absolutely nothing. Heading towards the stairs, he curses the Heaven’s above for whatever has happened. The door opens and he’s met with the burned corpse of the angel. _

Crowley wakes, shouting for his angel in the silence of night. Images of a burned body are filling his mind, and a shaky tear races its way down Crowley’s cheek. He lays back, though Crowley knows that sleep won’t find him soon. Not with the images that fill his mind anyway.

The bed beside him is cold and empty, his mind is filled with the loss of his angel and the demon is at a loss. He doesn’t know what to do, or where to turn anymore, just short of going back to Hell to be punished for eternity.  _ Nothing is as bad as a life without his angel anyway. _


	5. Facing Satan

As Satan emerges from the depths, the image of their surroundings is imprinted firmly in Crowley’s mind. He’s terrified, more so as he sees the beings surround him look just as terrified. If Aziraphale is scared, Crowley is certain, that it's a dire situation that can only end one way: horribly.

Smoke rises around the group of misfits; he can hear an assortment of sirens somewhere off in the distance. Aziraphale is stood a few feet away, and Crowley wants nothing more than to run home and hide in his bed; to close his eyes and pinch himself in the hope that it’s all just a bad dream.

It wouldn't work though, and deep down, Crowley knows that. He knows that if it was a dream, it wouldn't be like this. This is too real, too unpredictable.

Time passes in a blur, but Crowley watches as Adam fights against the life he's supposed to live. Crowley’s heart is racing, he’s terrified. He drops the piece of his car to the floor, with a clang, as the world around them resumes some semblance of normality. Aziraphale is talking to Crowley, he can’t hear though. He doesn’t want to though; he’s terrified of what’s to come.

Adam steps forward, his eyes are filled with fear as he looks up to the being facing right back.

"You're not my dad" His voice is timid, he's scared. But it's the start.

He repeats it, over and over until Satan is crying out, crumbling to the floor as the ground reopens.

"You're not my dad. You never were" Adam calls. The being fades, the smoke rises, and everything begins to return to some semblance of normality.

"That's not really his father..." Aziraphale trails off, though he's unsure of whether it's a question or a statement.

"It is..." Crowley has that far away distant look in his eyes again. Aziraphale has seen it a few times, especially when the demon has been scared by something.

"It is now" Crowley adds. Aziraphale sees a small smile appear on Crowley's face.

"And it always was... He did it" Crowley hides his excitement. It's a weakness. No one can see a weakness. A spluttering old car breaks the silence, dragging Aziraphale's attention away from the demon.

The smoke settles, the rubble lingers and the fear from Crowley is encompassing the entirety of England. Adam's hand slips from Aziraphale's and Crowley's, but the pair only move closer together.

"Adam? Adam?" Mr Young looks entirely confused as he looks around the mess that is the remains of Tadfield Airbase. Aziraphale is at least grateful that he and Crowley have been able to hide their wings before anyone else sees them.  _ Too many people already know _ .

"Oh, for Heaven's sake, where is he? Adam! Where are you?" Mr Young's calls would almost be comical, especially to Crowley, if he wasn't so scared of what's inevitably going to come from the day's events.

The dust and the rubble settles around them, everyone leaves. Except for Crowley and Aziraphale, they linger in the remains of the airbase. Aziraphale is the first to move though, prompting Crowley to make his escape.

_ He’s tempted to leave this whole damn universe. _

_ It won’t work though, he’ll be found and caught. _

They wander back to Tadfield, no words are spoken. There's nothing to say, they're both pondering their next move, something that won't get them trapped by Heaven and Hell.

As they wait for the bus, Crowley already has images of the day’s events flickering through his mind, like some sick movie. It’s taunting him, and there’s worse still to come. The bus arrives, and Crowley rests his head against the window as Aziraphale sits beside him, rubbing the demon’s knee gently.

* * *

Crowley wanders into his bedroom, face-planting the bed with a grunt. He hasn’t even thought about going to sleep, he only wants to lay here. He wants to sleep for the rest of time, but he’s terrified of closing his eyes. Well, that isn’t entirely true, he’s scared of what he’s going to see when he closes his eyes. He has an idea of what he’s going to see though, and he’s still terrified of what he’s actually going to see when he finally gets to sleep.

_ Smoke rises, concrete is tossed aside like sand. _

_ “Crowley” There’s a deep voice. There’s no one around, only Crowley. The being appears in front of him: Satan. _

Crowley looks up to the Devil, he once thought that he would like to be Satan, though now he wishes he was still an angel or a human. Humans have it easy. They’re not forced to cause so much drama that has no effect on any person in the entire damn universe. Crowley is. It wasn’t by choice but Crowley knows that falling from grace was the worst event of his long, long life.

_ "Look what you have caused" Satan's voice booms. Crowley looks around. Corpses litter the ground. There’s a pained expression in their eyes, entirely directed at him. _

_ "All of this hurt, all of this anguish" _

_ "These people were all meant to die within the great war. You stopped the great war; they've had painful and tedious deaths" _

_ Tears stream from Crowley's eyes as he drops to his knees _ .  _ Satan’s laugh is loud, ringing through Crowley’s head. _

Crowley sits up. He should be unfazed by the nightmares, he's had so many. But still, it hurts. He sighs, standing up. He wanders over to his bedroom window, looking out over London.

There are people curled up with loved ones; people having the best times of their lives; people dealing with an unimaginable loss; and then there's Crowley: alone, in a cold and empty apartment, terrified of what's to come; unable to think of a plan and an escape.

For the first time in his long life, Crowley is human; vulnerable. And he's scared. There are so many possible outcomes, and not one of the aforementioned outcomes is going to end well.


	6. Their Punishments

It’s the first time that Crowley and Aziraphale have shared a bed and cuddled. Over the past 72 hours, their lives have changed so much that the relationship they have has changed to a state that neither can place.

They’re not complaining though. Aziraphale is cuddled up at Crowley’s back, a warmth that the demon has never felt, even down in the pits of Hell.

Arms wind around Crowley’s waist, only pulling him closer. He lets a small smile fall onto his face, though he doesn’t _want_ to go to sleep. He knows what he’ll see if he falls asleep. It’s the first night they’ve been together following their punishments.

They’re not even in the bookshop or Crowley’s flat, he doesn’t feel comfortable or safe here, though it’s much safer here than being in the bookshop, or his flat, where Heaven and Hell would find them. 

At least it’s The Ritz, where they are relatively comfortable enough that they can try and sleep here – Crowley doesn’t imagine he’d be lying in bed if it wasn’t the Ritz, he wouldn’t be comfortable enough to open himself like this.

Crowley closes his eyes, in the hopes that he can try and get at least a few minutes of peaceful, dream-filled sleep. He doesn’t want to be running around London after no sleep, that would be much worse. Crowley has never coped without sleeping – which was only made worse by his nightmares.

That doesn’t happen.

It takes mere seconds for Crowley to be seeing the faces of everyone he once called family. He can remember when he was an angel; when he would be here without burning up under every single step. He once called Gabriel a brother, though Crowley knows that he’ll never do that now. 

He doesn’t know how he managed to keep control and not slaughter the entirety of Heaven for how they treat Aziraphale, but during the punishments, if he was to slip up, even once, he would be risking everything that he and Aziraphale have fought for over the past few years, as well as all but certainly killing Aziraphale.

_He can see the look Gabriel is giving him – it’s almost as though Gabriel can see right through the façade, like Gabriel knows that it’s Crowley before him and not Aziraphale. Crowley doesn’t even want to think about that much. The ring of Holy Fire is burning away, he can feel the warmth radiating from it. He could attack them all, leave nothing but a trail of corpses for the remainder of Heaven to find… could._

_Crowley is still terrified though, and he doesn’t want to take any risks._

_His eyes meet Gabriel’s again. He remembers when Gabriel was first introduced. Aziraphale and Crowley had been angels, and friends, for a while when She had introduced Gabriel as her son. Crowley can very clearly remember the anger that Gabriel has always held towards him._

_Crowley is certain that his fall was entirely caused by Gabriel meddling. He’ll never voice that though, especially not now while he and Aziraphale could be murdered._

_Someone is speaking, Crowley isn’t listening. He’s too focused on perfecting his acting of Aziraphale that nothing matters. He steps forward into the fire, a smirk falls onto his face._

_The fear that fills the angel’s eyes gives Crowley a confidence never seen in the demon._

_But it’s too much and it gives everything away._

_“That’s Crowley, that’s the demon!” Someone says. Crowley falls to the floor, already knowing what’s going to happen. He feels the countless eyes of all of the angels as he’s dragged away, while the demon is already running off to Hell to give an equal punishment to Aziraphale – who is still waiting in Heaven._

_“Crowley”_ A voice calls to him.

 _“Crowley, my dear”_ It repeats. He vaguely recognises the voice.

“Crowley”

 _Aziraphale_. _He’s safe. He’s alive. Crowley’s safe, Crowley’s alive. Heaven and Hell failed._

Crowley jolts awake, almost banging heads with Aziraphale as he sits up. He pants, brushing sweat-slick hair back as he tries to sit comfortably, though that’s not possible.

“Are you okay?” Aziraphale asks. He sits back, watching as Crowley tries to get comfortable. Crowley sighs, letting out a shaky breath. He looks down, shaking his head. Aziraphale frowns, shifting to stroke his fingers over Crowley’s back.

The touch sends Crowley into a swirling pit of his emotions. Tears drip over onto the bedding. Of course, Aziraphale immediately notices them. He reaches over and cups Crowley’s cheek, brushing them away.

“Oh, my dear. I’m sorry, I’m afraid that _this…_ comforting, it isn’t my area of expertise. I am here though” Aziraphale says, stroking his fingers over Crowley’s cheek. He eases the demon close, resting his head on his shoulder. Crowley settles, though sobs are still wracking his body.

“I’m here, I’m safe. You’re safe, we’re alive and they’ve failed” Aziraphale says. Crowley nods, letting out a shaky breath and brushing some sweat from his forehead. Aziraphale smiles, a smile that fills Crowley with warmth. Crowley smiles in response, resting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Aziraphale smiles and presses his lips against the top of Crowley’s head. Crowley reaches down and squeezes Aziraphale’s hand, and the angel smiles, squeezing Crowley’s hand right back.

For a while, neither of them speak. They share each other’s company. Shared breaths fill the silence and the darkness. Aziraphale is tired, that much is obvious, but he refuses to fall asleep until he’s certain Crowley is okay.

“I love you” Crowley murmurs. He hears the intake of breath from Aziraphale and then the angel is kissing him deeply. Crowley feels himself being laid back on the bed by Aziraphale, and the kisses are deepening.

Crowley is a long way from having a full night of sleep, undisturbed by nightmares. However, with Aziraphale by his side, Crowley knows that the nightmares won’t be as bad now. He’ll be able to roll over, to watch Aziraphale and calm his racing heart; he won’t be so alone anymore. 


End file.
